In Our Favor All Along
by riverknowshisname
Summary: Katniss and Peeta reflect on the past, their three children, and a book about a Mockingjay at Christmastime. Canon post-Epilogue, contains Toastbabies, married!Everlark, parent!Everlark - Written for PiP's Holiday Special


Peeta stands leaning against the wall watching Katniss sitting on the floor with their three children, Ivy who just turned seven, Rocket who just turned two and the baby Rye in the rocker by her on the floor. Ivy's going on and on about something that happened at school earlier that day and Rocket is persisting to hit his mother with the book. The book that Peeta hated. It was a book about a Mockingjay, oh it was never so clear as to who the Mockingjay was, or anything related to the war, it was simply about a special bird … one that dreams of a better world, and then goes and gets it. Of course Katniss herself hates the book, and because of Rocket she has the whole thing memorized, Peeta fortunately never had that luxury. When it came to "The Mockingjay and Freedom" he always went to his mother to read it, not that Peeta was complaining, but he could see the look of disdain on his wife faces as she yet again, agreed to read the book.

"I can read it to him," says Ivy reaching for the book.

"No!" screams Rocket pulling it back against his chest. Being the children of the victors and The Mockingjay, for them had it's perks. People in the Capitol still sent gifts, the leaders of all of the other Districts sent them gifts, Katniss and Peeta, out of obligation gave them everyone. There were no more interviews, Peeta himself put an end to the nosiness of it all. The Mockingjay and the Baker's Boy were happy, and happy to be left alone.

With the winning of the war, several old traditions came back, like Christmas. It made sense that it was celebrated in the winter. The Mellarks were well taken care of, and even Haymitch Abernathy made a regular appearance. He's not entirely sober, but when Ivy was born he certainly drank a little less, he said it was because he didn't want to drop the baby … and while Peeta and Katniss believed that to be true, neither of them thought that was entirely the reason.

Haymitch grew to deeply care about Katniss Everdeen, and Peeta Mellark, long before the Quarter Quell happened, and after Katniss and him wrestled as much of the old Peeta away from the hijacking as they could … he started to pay more attention. He was the only person at their toasting. Effie Trinket made regular appearances as well, and always brought the Mellark children presents, insisting that "only the best" would be given to two of the last surviving victors … her victors. That was probably the biggest thing the old escort, and the grouchy neighbor had in common, how much they loved Peeta and Katniss.

But as Peeta stood watching Katniss agree yet again to read the book he stepped forward, insisting that she didn't always have to read it, and for once, Rocket didn't argue. Instead, as fast as he could he ran to his father who hoisted him in the air like a hovercraft and as they crashed to the couch the little boy squealed in delight. Peeta's leg still gave him trouble, even now, years later but he had learned to live with it.

"Alright," said Peeta sitting the boy upright on his lap, "_The Mockingjay and Freedom_," Peeta read the title before opening the book. The first page consisted entirely of a deep blue colored bird. "Once upon a not so long ago, there lived a beautiful blue Mockingjay. This Mockingjay was not like the other birds, because it had a purpose, it had a calling, it was going to change the world."

Turning the page there was a loaf of bread, "the Mockingjay's life was never easy, and in fact, one day when it was sure it's life was over … it was given a loaf of bread. That loaf sustained her for a decent meal, after all, the bird couldn't carry everything, instead it shared it with the other birds in her family."

The next page showed the Mockingjay taking pieces of the bread and flying to a nest on the following page. "This Mockingjay was tired of not having enough food, and for having to be so careful, people didn't like the Mockingjay. One day the Mockingjay got caught by a mean person, the mean person put them in a cage with a more hostile set of birds, and these birds were not forgiving." The next page contained that of the Mockingjay on the bottom of the cage in one corner and the rest of the birds looking at it hungrily.

"After days of torment the Mockingjay decided it had had enough," Peeta sighed, but continued. "The Mockingjay noticed that bread had made it's way into the cage but the other birds quickly and hungrily devoured the bread leaving just a couple crumbs for the Mockingjay to eat."

Peeta then paused and looked to his wife, "is this really how they see me?"

"Now you know why I h-a-t-e, that book," she shrugged.

"Mhm," he nodded turning the page. This page contained that of the Mockingjay breaking free from the cage, "But one day, against all odds the Mockingjay broke free. She had had enough of that life and refused to ever go back there again. She made her way back to her home and rebuilt her nest. There was a baker who always made sure she was fed, and then one day another bird appeared and they started a family. Life was good from then on. After all, not all the birds in the cage were bad, some of them were just blindly following the white as snow leader."

The final page had two eggs hatching, "Finally the Mockingjay was able to live happily with her family, but it didn't come without it's sacrifices, because without a struggle, one can never fully appreciate the journey." Closing the book Peeta stared at his wife. "Who even wrote this?" he asked her.

"Look at the front," she said blandly.

Peeta turned the book over in his hands reading the name embossed onto the front. "Plutarch?" He meets her eyes and she nods. "I might have known." Who did the illustrations? He looked at the name, but it was not the least bit familiar, and then he felt it, that feeling he got every once in awhile. Katniss knew this look well.

"Rocket," said Katniss, "come have your sister read you your book." Only because his mother suggested it did he become okay with it. Immediately Peeta got to his feet and headed out to the kitchen. Gripping the back of the kitchen chair he felt his wife's arms encircle his waist.

The memory of Monkey Mutts, of the berries, of him waking from his run in with the force field. He still had trouble remembering some things, and sometimes more so than others were harder. Sometimes he still couldn't differentiate between the real things, and the altered things. Despite whatever the memory was he would close his eyes and try and force it away.

"I love you," his wife said soothingly. "I don't know what memory it is this time, but it's not true … or if it is, it's not as bad as it might seem. We are together. We are happy. We have each other. We have a family. Snow no longer has the power to make you hate me, because you don't, whatever the memory is, you can let go of it."

"I know," he sighed breaking away from the memory. "This one wasn't too bad."

"Do you need to ask?"

"The berries were your way of forcing the Gamemakers to keep us both alive," he said, "Real or not real?"

"Real," she leaned her head on his back. "I couldn't live without you even then. I didn't realize at the time, or even soon thereafter, but I think I loved you then. I certainly couldn't imagine a life back here if you had died there."

"You love me, real or not real?" he asked her letting go of the chair and holding her hands.

"Real," she sighed. "Very much real."

"Good to know," he said with a smile turning around to pull her into his arms. "I'd have thought … after all these years they would have gone away by now. I wish they'd go away, I hate having to ask you about my messed up reality."

"I will always help you, Peeta," she sighed leaning her head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat, she could still remember with vivid detail, the day that it had stopped. She didn't know how she was ever going to live in a world where it wasn't beating, she wasn't even sure that she could, and above all, she didn't ever want to have to find out.

"You listening to my heart again?" he asked pulling her closer and tightening his grip on her.

"As long as it's beating," she hiccuped, "I'll be listening."

Peeta chuckled at this, but knew the sincerity at which his wife expressed it, was more than completely genuine, but fiercely meant. It's not that Katniss didn't joke, or have fun, but she'd endured so much hardship and pain and loss, that sometimes it was hard for her to see the good.

Just then a wail came from the other room, "Momma! He's awake!" screamed Rocket, indicating that his baby brother had woken up and that he needed to be attended to immediately. If anyone hated crying babies — and Haymitch certainly did — Rocket hated it even more.

With a sigh Katniss let of of her husband and went to retrieve her crying infant, "I'm coming baby," said Katniss and the crying almost immediately stopped. Peeta followed her from the kitchen to lean in the doorway as Katniss hoisted their three month old into her arms. His dark hair and blue eyes were startlingly — alarmingly — much like Peeta's. As Katniss cradled the infant he immediately quieted down and went to sleep. Peeta watched with fondness, with a love he couldn't quite understand or control. As he looked at his wife holding their baby, his daughter reading to her brother about the famous Mockingjay, and noticed … not for the first time, but how sincerely and grossly they had both missed this as children. That they had given their children as much as they possibly could, that they already had better lives than that of their parents, and that they would never have to go into an arena and never have to know what it felt like to kill someone.

"You okay, Peeta?" Katniss asked him.

"Oh," he looked at her again, "yeah babe, I'm fine."

"Then what are you thinking?" she smiled at him.

"That this — that we're lucky — that they are lucky," he nodded in their kids' direction.

"How so?" she asked rocking the baby back and forth.

"This is what a family is supposed to be like," he smiled and then crossed the room to place one arm around her shoulders and the other stroking the babies golden hair, "and that for the first time, in our family, some children know what it's like to actually have a mother. Someone that doesn't get depressed and ignore them, and certainly someone that doesn't hit them."

"Hmm…" Katniss said slowly noticing the two on the ground now shaking all the presents underneath the tree.

"Of all the things that we deserved, they've gotten," he laughed lightly. "But they got the best thing of all."

"You?" Katniss asked, her smile widening.

"A mother who loves them," he kissed her on the forehead. "Everyone deserves that, and they got it. They hit the maternal jackpot. I see you with them, and Iknow that this is how it was supposed to be all along. We went through the fire, you got through your depression, I get through all the muddled memories … we've overcome a lot to be here."

"That's true," she said leaning her head on his shoulder. "But they didn't just get a 'maternal jackpot', but they also got a father that provides for them, cares for them, and would never let anything bad happen to them."

"I guess they got what we always set out to do," he says rubbing her arm.

"Oh?" she looks up at him. "And what's that?"

"Protect each other," he says with a smile. "They'll always have that. They'll always have you, and they'll always have me, because that's what we do. You and I, ever since the beginning, that's what we've done. I would die for you."

"I would die for you," she says turning her head towards the couch. Knowing what she means he sits down and puts his arm up and she comfortable sinks into the couch beside her, snuggling up beside him she turns to look him in the eyes. "I still need you. More now than I did then. There is no world for me where you aren't. There is no life for me without you. I've had to experience that once, and I don't ever want to experience that again. Of all the things in my life that I need, you, Peeta Mellark are what I need most."

"From now, until the day I die," he says kissing her forehead, "you will never have to know what that is like, and I'll do everything in my power to not die on you again … though, if I'm honest. I can't live without you either. You're my sanity in the storm of confusion. You're the light in my life. You're the fire that keeps me going. You, Katniss Everdeen—" she goes to correct him, but he places a finger to her lips. "The girl on fire, may you never go out."

"Eww," says Haymitch from behind them, neither having heard him coming in. "If you're going to be this mushy, I'll come back later."

"Uncle Haymitch!" scream Ivy and Rocket getting to their feet and rushing to him. He's not always sober, but when he's there he tries to be.

"Ahh!" he yells scooping them both into the air and hoisting them over his shoulders. "I'm going to take these two." He laughs and then nods at the baby. "You can keep that one. And each other, I can't separate you. You haven't been apart for more than a few hours since he came back to 12. I have better sense than to split you two up."

"Gee, thanks Haymitch," says Peeta with sass.

"Oh," Haymitch says tossing something at them which Peeta catches. "This was on the porch."

"What's this?" Katniss asks him.

"Hell if I know," Haymitch says before spinning back and forth, the two still over his shoulders.

Peeta opens it up and sees the back of a book, "gah! Not another one, Plutarch stop!" He turns the book over in his hands and sees the title, _The Mockingjay and the Bread That Saved Her Life: The Story of Two Star-Crossed Lovers … Perhaps Not So Crossed After All._ "Who wrote it?" Peeta asks turning to the inscription page, _"To the girl who always had my back, and the guy that always had hers, I'm sorry for what happened before, but there's a reason you're together. There's a reason the things in this book happened. There's a reason for everything. Never have two people been more right for each other. Never have two people been so important before. This is your story, and I'm glad I have the opportunity to tell it, because you inspired so many, and you should still be able to. — Gale Hawthorne"_

"Gale?" Katniss asks surprised. "What's it say?"

Peeta turns quickly to the first page and reads aloud, _"Once, many years ago I had to watch the girl I loved, fall in love with someone else. And looking back on it, there was no other way it could have been, it was always going to be Peeta … it was always going to be the tributes on fire, and I'm glad it was. This is their story from the sidelines, because it needs to be told, and because they're too humble to do it themselves. This is the story of The Mockingjay, the Baker's Boy, and the hope of a nation that started with a reaping."_

"Think it's any good?" Katniss asks her husband.

"I think I'd like to find out," says Peeta.

"Oh, it's good," says Haymitch. "My favorite quote is this, _'I went back on day to see her, but was stopped upon looking through the front window. Round belly, child on one arm, Peeta at her side with a child in his. That's where this story has brought them, this is how it ends, with the girl and the boy from District 12 who lived on luck and survived on love. And that to me, is pretty beautiful. That to me, is how this story ends. The odds were — apparently — in their favor all along.'"_

"Where's that?" the couple asked in unison.

"On the last page," says Haymitch. "He got it all right. The odds were always in your favor, even if it didn't seem that way at the time. Every great story has to start somewhere, yours started in the rain with a bit of bread. Life begot life as it were. Personally, these kids look way better than their parents."

"Thanks Haymitch," says Peeta with a laugh.

"I guess Gale's right," says Katniss pulling her husbands face down into a kiss. "It was a real piece of luck."

"I told you that," says Peeta with a smile, "real or not real?"

"Real," says Katniss kissing him again. "Guess the odds were in our favor all along."


End file.
